A Kiss for Lady Mary (3 page)

Grandmamma had been right. There was a great deal of work to do here. Shortly after arriving, Mary had vowed to do everything she could to earn her keep. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so guilty for the ruse, and if she really were Rose Hill’s mistress, she would ensure the estate was in good repair. Aside from that, behaving in any other fashion might cause unwanted speculation. Mary sincerely hoped Mr. Featherton who owned Rose Hill never found out about her deception, or if he did, she would be long gone, and untraceable.

Thinking of one Mr. Featherton caused her to remember Mr. Kit Featherton. Mary sat back on her heels. Although they had never been properly introduced, during her one full Season, she had dubbed him Mr. Perfect. Perfectly dressed, perfectly mannered, a perfect dancer, and perfectly able to ignore her. The only time he had come close to her was when they happened to come together during the course of a minuet or a country dance. She sighed. Every time his gloved hand had touched hers, she’d felt a tingling sensation. He had caught her gaze, holding it as if he wished to spend more time with her. Yet he never did. He was the only gentleman she had wanted to dance attendance on her who did not. Of course, he had no need of her dowry, nor did he care that she had been the Incomparable of the Season.

Turning back to the matter at hand, Mary was less sanguine about Eunice’s idea to attend church and be on friendly terms with the neighbors. Yet she was right. It would have appeared odd for them to remain in seclusion and it would have caused talk. Instead they became part of the community. Mary found it odd that after the first introductions, no one had asked about Mr. Featherton, not even the staff. On the other hand, having her aunt with her as a companion was as strong a sign as she could give that her husband was not expected to begin living at Rose Hill anytime soon.

Leaning heavily on his cane, Mr. Stuttart hobbled out the front door and directed his attention up. “It does look much better, my lady.”

She studied him quickly. Poor Mr. Stuttart had had one illness or injury after another. He appeared to be doing better now. She followed his gaze. Once the roses had been cut back, the house and roof had been cleaned. Mary smiled. “Yes, it does. It is amazing how a little work can yield such an improvement.”

“Speaking of yields, I have the numbers from the apple and pear sales. That idea you had to get all the local farmers together made quite a difference.”

It had been the practice of her father’s to combine produce from the local farms, marketing it as a whole. There was much less chance of anyone being undercut that way. Rose Hill had been barely self-supporting, and she hoped to increase the earnings per acre so that much-needed repairs on the estate could start being made before a roof fell in, or a family suffered because the estate could not afford renovations to its tenants’ houses.

If the worst were to occur, and she was found out, Mary could point to the improvements she’d made.

 

K
it sat behind the desk of his study in his father’s house on South Audley Street. He’d always found it easier to meet with his man of business here than in his own rooms. That worthy, Mr. Baxter, now sat across from Kit.

Baxter rubbed his nose. “I can’t account for the difference, sir.”

Kit glanced at the column of numbers concerning a minor property he had owned for several years, but had not visited since his first and only inspection. Despite last year’s bad weather, the small estate had shown an increase in profits at harvest time, and now there had been more income from an unexpected source. “Whose idea was it to plant winter rye?”

“It would have to have been Mr. Stuttart’s.”

Kit wondered what had got into the steward that after so many years he was making drastic changes to the property. The stimulus in the estate’s revenues had allowed improvements to be made to the house and tenants’ cottages. “You said that Stuttart wouldn’t allow his wages to be raised?”

“No, sir. He said the extra was better spent on the estate and village.”

This was all extremely strange. Kit had never known estate managers to be particularly philanthropic. It was almost as if the man had become a new person. Kit shrugged. “Very well, let me know if he changes his mind.”

Baxter placed his hands on the chair arms. “I will. If you’ve no further questions right now . . .”

“You’re free to go.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Leaning back in his chair, Kit tried to form an image of Rose Hill and could not. Perhaps he’d been remiss in not visiting the property, though he had given the steward a great deal of latitude in handling the affairs. This was the first time there had been a surplus. Well, as the man had written, pouring it back into the estate was probably the best idea. After all, Kit certainly didn’t need the blunt.

He should make a point of planning a visit sometime in June after the Season wound down. He was tempted to go now. Unfortunately he’d promised his parents he’d start looking for a wife this year.

An image of laughing gray eyes floated through his mind.

Last year, Kit had been to every entertainment in both the main and Little Seasons and had not seen her. His inquiries about Barham produced the information that he was not coming to Town unless his vote was needed in the Lords.

Perhaps he should write to Barham, but God only knew how Mary’s brother would take that, and Kit did not wish to approach the issue of Lady Mary in a letter. He could have stopped in at Barham’s estate, but had not done that either.

Kit should have danced with her when she’d come out, yet how could he have known back then that years later she’d still be the only woman he was truly interested in, and she had always been surrounded by her court, never seeming to notice him. Nevertheless, he should have approached her or searched for her before now.

The devil
.

Kit pitched his pen across the room. Why was he dithering? Even if Lady Mary was taken, surely he could find someone he could bear to look at over the breakfast table day in and day out. Year in and year out. All he required was a female who didn’t twitter and could hold a conversation about something other than the weather.

He shuddered at the thought of marrying any of the young ladies he’d met over the past year. They’d bore him to death within a month. Probably a week. He almost wished his mother was the type who would make a list of eligible ladies, but she had married for love and expected her children to do so as well.

Damnation. He’d just have to put his mind to it. Someone was bound to come along. Or perhaps he should find an excuse to visit Barham.

A knock sounded at the door. “Come.”

Marcus, Earl of Evesham, strolled in, a wicked grin on his face. Something was up. “Have you heard the news?”

Kit waved his friend to a chair in front of his desk, then handed him a glass of wine. “What news?”

“Serena delivered a girl.”

Kit spit his mouthful of wine back in the glass. Before Robert Beaumont had married the former Lady Serena Weir, he had been the most notorious rake in London. Now he would have a daughter to protect from men such as he was. “You’re joking me?”

“Not at all. Phoebe received word to-day.”

Kit gave a bark of laughter. “Cabined, cribbed, and confined. It serves him right. She’ll run him ragged.”

“Serena writes that the baby already has him wrapped around her fingers.” Marcus chuckled. “And he’s preparing to talk to Angelo about teaching her to use a short sword.”

“I’d love to see Angelo’s face when he receives that request.” In fact, Kit would make a point of it. They could sell tickets.

If anything, Marcus’s grin broadened. “They’ll be in Town in a few weeks, and Phoebe is planning a small get together. Wivenly and his bride will be there as well.”

Life for all of them was changing, and Kit was beginning to feel left out. He was the last of his Oxford friends who was unmarried. By the end of the year, he’d be the only one without a child. He’d have to decide on a bride soon.

 

 

 

Mary laid down her pen and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Finally all the accounts were in order. She stood, arched her back.

Just as she reached for the bell-pull, a knock came on the door to the office, and Simons entered with a tea tray. “You’ve been cooped up here for so long, my lady, Mrs. Enderson thought you might like some tea.”

“Indeed I would.” Mary smiled. Since the first day, the servants had treated her as if she’d been their mistress for years. They’d wanted and needed direction, which unfortunately did nothing to ease the guilt she felt in living here. “In fact, I’ve just finished for the day. How is Mr. Stuttart doing?”

“Much better, my lady. The plaster you had Cook make seemed to do the trick.”

The poor man had fallen ill with a series of lung complaints lasting all winter. Finally Mary had dug into the books her great-grandmother had kept on household remedies and come up with something that seemed to be working. “Please ask Lady Eunice to join me.”

Simons bowed and left, closing the door behind him. A few minutes later, Eunice entered the room. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. As soon as Mr. Stuttart is able to work again, we should make plans to leave. The upcoming Season will be all the explanation we need.”

Eunice sat, poured a cup of tea and handed it to Mary. “Are you sure you wish to go to Town this year?”

Mary sank into a large leather chair. “No, but I think I have been here long enough, and I have a feeling I should move on, before we are found out, or Gawain finds me.”

Eunice stared out the window for a few moments with her brow furrowed before responding, “I see your point, but the fact remains that you are safe here.”

Tears threatened to clog Mary’s throat. She couldn’t wait much longer. All her friends were married and having babies. If she didn’t wed soon, the chance to have a family of her own might be lost to her. “Don’t you see, Aunt Eunice? I want to marry. It is as if life is passing me by. If I can find someone to marry, once I am betrothed, the court will have to act. My uncle cannot arbitrarily withhold his consent.”

“You could allow Mama to make a match for you.”

“No. I want to fall in love. You had the opportunity to wed the one you loved, as did my mother and brother. I just want the same chance.” Surely there was a man who could love her for herself and not her dowry or her face. Someone kind, who would love and cherish her and their children.

“Yes. I see your point.” Eunice took a sip of tea. “I shall write to Mama.”

Mary put her cup down. “I’m going into Rosebury. Would you like to come with me?”

Her aunt nodded distractedly, as if she had something important on her mind. “Shall we walk?”

What could Eunice be thinking of? Her late husband? Perhaps, Mary thought, she should not have mentioned him. “Unless you’d rather take the gig?”

“Not at all.” Eunice rose quickly. “Give me a moment to change my shoes and I’ll meet you in the hall.”

After Eunice left, Mary called for her hat, cloak, and gloves. A brisk walk would do them both some good.

 

A half hour later they reached the edge of the market town. Mary waved at one of the ladies strolling on the other side of the street. If it weren’t for her deception, she would have been happy to call Rose Hill and Rosebury home. The town was lovely and the people welcoming. This had also been the first time in two years that she’d been free from her cousin’s harassment. Being able to walk and ride without fear of being abducted by Gawain had been a blessing. Still, she was sure he would eventually find her as he always had before.

A carriage carrying the squire’s wife, Lady Brownly, her eldest daughter, Diana, and another lady, whom Mary was unable to see clearly, pulled alongside her and Eunice.

Lady Brownly smiled warmly. “If we had known you were also coming to Rosebury, I would have been happy to fetch you.”

Mary returned the smile. The lady and her daughter had been the first ones to welcome her to the area. “Thank you, but it has been a while since I’ve had a good walk, and I needed it.”

“My lady, I must tell you my news!” Diana Brownly practically bounced on the seat as she spoke. “My godmamma—actually she is Mama’s godmother, but she seems like mine—is sponsoring me for a London Season.”

“Not if you act like a jack-in-the-box I won’t.” The caustic voice belonged to the unseen lady.

Diana immediately settled down, but none of the joy left her face.

Mary laughed. “She is right. You must not act like a hoyden in Town.”

Before she could be introduced to the other lady in the carriage, the rector of the local church, Mr. Doust, strolled up to them and said, “My ladies.” He bowed. “Lady Eunice, may I ask your opinions on a pressing matter?”

Eunice glanced over at him. When she answered, her tone was light and somehow joyful. “We would be delighted, Mr. Doust.” She turned to Lady Brownly. “I am very sorry, but I must excuse myself. Please, come for tea before you leave for London.”

“I’m afraid it will just be me.” Lady Brownly glanced fondly at her daughter. “Diana departs tomorrow. There is a veritable orgy of shopping in which she must partake before the Season begins.”

“Then we shall have a comfortable coze,” Mary responded as her aunt spoke with the rector. It was probably better that way. Thus far, she had been extremely fortunate that no one had questioned her living here, and that no one in the area actually knew Mr. Featherton.

The Brownlys’ coach moved on, and when Mary glanced at Eunice she saw that her aunt had a cat-in-the-cream expression on her face. Could she be interested in Mr. Doust? Admittedly, he was quite good looking, but for the life of her, Mary could not see her fun-loving aunt as a clergyman’s wife.

Still, it was very sweet and made her yearn to look at some gentleman that way and have him return her gaze. Not even all the aggravation her cousin had caused her could make her cease to wish to be courted by a man she loved. In fact, it made her more determined than ever to pick her own husband. She would not allow Gawain to destroy her life.

Eunice and the rector disappeared into the church, and Mary ambled around the small garden. When all this business with Gawain had begun, she would never have imagined that her kind, scholarly uncle would have insisted she wed his son. Not only that, but he wouldn’t even speak to her brother about the matter. All communication was done via letters and through solicitors. Something about this whole thing did not make sense. If only she could figure out what it was.

 

After an early dinner, Almeria, Lady Bellamny, sat in the drawing room of the Brownlys’ modest manor house. Thank the Lord that rector had interrupted before introductions had to be made. Mary would surely have recognized her name immediately and possibly panicked. She was almost surprised the girl hadn’t recognized her voice, although she had tried to disguise it by lowering it a bit. Still, she should have cried off the trip to the town. It had been a stupid risk.

Almeria took the cup her goddaughter Phillice handed her. “Tell me, my dear, who is Lady Mary?”

“Why, she is Mr. Featherton’s wife to be sure. Perhaps I should not talk of it, but . . .”

Ah yes, where there was good gossip there was always a “but.” Almeria waited for Phillice to overcome her scruples.

“I believe there is some sort of estrangement. He has never been here, or at least not for many years and certainly not since her arrival. Thank goodness she has her aunt to keep her company. In any event, I do not remember meeting him, though I suppose Sir Howard might have. I must say, I do not think much of a man who would abandon his wife in such a manner, although Lady Mary is too well-bred to mention it. One would think she didn’t care, except that the few times Mr. Featherton’s name has been mentioned she quickly changes the subject, and once I thought I saw her flinch.”

Almeria stirred three lumps of sugar into her tea. On orders of her doctor, a most superior man, she’d been on a reducing diet. Still, one must have sugar in one’s tea. “How does Lady Mary get on here?”

Phillice’s expression perked up. “Very well. Indeed, I do not know what we did before she arrived. We all love her. She has done so much for Rose Hill and the town. I do not know how she managed it, but she is paying for the roof of the church to be repaired and replaced. If her husband does appear, he’ll find it necessary to prove himself.”

Almeria nodded. “Excellent. Perhaps I shall put a flea in Mr. Featherton’s ear. He really should not leave his wife alone.”

Her goddaughter frowned. “We would not wish to lose her, or cause her any trouble.”